(November 23, 2024)

Porco glared at the crowds standing in his way. Too many people. All of them standing exactly where he needed to be.
He took a deep breath. It was all right. One moment at a time. Then he could grab his doughnut and head home. No one needed to get hurt.
Porcos reached into the pocket of his coat to where the tiny black cat was curled up asleep. Its soft fur was a balm against the rising stress of being out and about, and he was glad he’d found the little creature prowling around outside the coffee shop.
Something to care for. That would keep his mind off the other beast prowling under his skin, waiting to be unleashed.

(February 2025)

“Apple cinnamon tea and a sour cream glazed?” the barista called.

Porcos grabbed the bag and the cup and hurried out of the café into the rainy afternoon. The cold droplets trickled down the back of his neck, under his collar. He shivered against the discomfort, and a low growl echoed in his head as the beast within responded to the irritant.

Porcos drew another breath and reached into his pocket to pet the kitten. Who bit him.

“Ow!”

“Well,” came a tiny voice, “don’t poke me in the eye.”

Porcos froze and looked around. No one else stood out on the rainy street.

He peered into the pocket. Had the cat just spoken to him?

(March 30, 2025)

The cat stared up at him, its green eyes sharp and undeniably angry.

“Um… hi?” Porcos said.

“That’s what you say when you hurt someone? Hi? How about sorry. I don’t know where you learn your manners from, but clearly you failed your lessons.”

Porcos blinked. “Where did you learn your manners from?” He hadn’t realized cats had manners. Or lessons.

“From the royal fae court, obviously.” The cat clucked its tongue. “Somewhere you would never be invited with that etiquette.”

Porcos looked from the cat to the muffin in his hand. “Um… would you like a bite of muffin?”

“That’s more like it.”

(January 6, 2025)

The cat crawled out of his pocket, up his back, and onto his shoulder, its sharp claws driving into his flesh and making him wince with every fresh stab.

He offered the cat the promised bite of muffin, and the cat devoured it. Its black fur caught the afternoon light with startling hints of blue and purple, and its green eyes narrowed at him. “Thank you for the snack. Now, I’ve come to deliver a message.”

Porcos swallowed. “Oh?”

“The Faerie queen would like a word with you. She says you debt has come due.”

Porcos groaned. This had just turned into the worst day of his life.